


A Failed Proposal

by rin0rourke



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rin0rourke/pseuds/rin0rourke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen comes home to find his boyfriend in the midst of a dinner disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Failed Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a cute marraige proposal, and one day I will, but Allen walking into the aftermath of what had to be a very intense multitasking struggle sounded even cuter.
> 
> Alma and Allen have the potential to be the sweetest most supportive couple ever to exist, I fell in love the instant Alma was introduced. Yullen will always be my favourite couple, but Almen is my feelgood secondary.

"Well," was all he could really say, just the one simple word, with its endless cold damp depths.

The way Alma was looking, standing there all nerve wrecked and disheveled with wide, panicked eyes told him the man would happily crawl over the ledge of that well and dissappear into those deep dark waters forever. 

The air smelled of burning, what exactly he couldn’t yet tell. There were fat squat candles everywhere, all lit, and the greater portion of them seemed to have melted through their own sides to waterfall hot wax onto the unprotected surfaces they sat on.

The apartment was small, the living room and dining room had a constant war every meal time when the tiny table was pulled out from its corner where it masqueraded as a lamp, junk mail, and magazine holder. At the moment it was dressed in a pretty red tablecloth, pulled more than slightly askew, set with the few matching dishes they had between them, and covered in splatter from the fast dripping wax of the two slim romantic candles in their tall silver stands. What looked to be the shattered wet remains of a vase scattered themselves on the tile floor and a white rose dangled desperately by a thorn caught in the cloth.

Timcampy, who was normally quiet and free roaming, wailed piteously in his dog crate, which also existed as a catch all end-table on the opposite side of the couch. He had somehow managed to tug several paper items into his cage for a wet, chewed up attempt at origami. 

"Well." He repeated, and Alma’s face flooded in embarrassed color at the exact moment his eye’s filled over with tears, hands coming up to rake through and tug at his already disheveled hair. "Oh no. Oh Alma. Come here."

Allen hurried over, wrapped him up in his arms. 

"I was trying to surprise you." Alma hiccaughed out. "I wanted it to be a suprise."

He made shushing noises as he led his lover to the couch, “It’s okay. Here. Sit down. You look like you had a rough time.”

"I screwed everything up. I was trying, but I just screw everything up," he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands, "it’s all a mess."

"No. It’s just a little, it’s a little messed up, but we can salvage it." Allen lay his head on Alma’s shoulder, "We’ll fix it. You and me together. Okay?"

" **I** was supposed to do it. It was going to be a _suprise_." His voice was the tone of a frustrated child.

"Well." Long pale fingers tugged at choppy black hair until Alma looked at him, pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Suprise."

He had just managed to draw a watery smile out of him when the shrill whine of the smoke alarm went off, spurring Tim into another round of howls. 

“The stove is still on.” Alma informed him sulkily.

"I got it. I’ll take care of it." He stood and gave Alma’s back a soothing circular rub. "You sit right there. I’ll get you a glass of water. Tim, be quiet." He scolded the dog in passing.

In the narrow closet sized kitchen Allen hurried to twist all the knobs off and turn on the overhead stove fan. 

The burning smell was coming from the pot of what looked like spaghetti cooked to the squishy consistency of limp lifeless worms. A quick attempt at stirring it unearthed a solid frisbee of well and truly fried pasta at the bottom. Beside it a sauce pan spit it’s tomato slop onto the entire stove and surounding walls with big fat belching bubbles.

He opened the oven and discovered the charred blackened remains of what he assumed would have been garlic bread.

Pulling that out and setting it in the sink he filled a glass with cold water and returned to the den where Alma sat staring at the wall with the brooding look of someone convincing themselves they were without all doubt absolute shit. “Well,” He reused the word, “forget what I said about salvaging. I would say dinner’s toast,” he pushed the glass into Alma’s hands and waited for him to look up. Grinned. “Except the toast is barbecue.”

Alma gave a trembling smile. “You’re a dork.”

"No dispute." He sat back down beside his boyfriend. "So what was all this then?" 

"I wanted to do something nice for you." Alma took a long drink. "I wanted to suprise you."

 "I got that much, but why?" He probed. "Are we fighting?"

"Not that I know of." He didn't offer anymore than that.

"Okay." Allen said again, wrapping himself around the man, who leaned into him with a sigh. Alma didn't seem to want to talk about the 'why' so he dropped it. For now. "How about this: we clean up, soak those pans in some  **really** hot water, get us a movie from RedBox, and order a pizza?"

"Alright." Alma closed his eyes and sagged fully against him. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"In a minute." Allen kissed the side of his head. "We'll just relax for a minute."

"Yeah."


End file.
